


Slow Dance to the Stars

by Adenil



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Dancing, Diplomatic Events, Established Relationship, M/M, absolute cuteness, starlight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 13:53:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13683027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adenil/pseuds/Adenil
Summary: Spock and Leonard dance beneath the stars.





	Slow Dance to the Stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Spones-in-my-bones (KoruLunan)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoruLunan/gifts).
  * Translation into 中文 available: [Slow Dance to the Stars | 星下共舞](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17211332) by [aaamoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aaamoon/pseuds/aaamoon), [Adenil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adenil/pseuds/Adenil)



What was it with diplomats and death by strangulation?

Someday, Leonard decided as he tugged at the neck of his dress uniform for the eight-hundredth time and nodded politely to the Ambassador from C’duo for the nine-millionth time, he would write a paper about this.

His uniform had been slowly strangling him the entire evening, and judging by the flush on the Ambassador’s face she wasn’t much better off. Not that that stopped her from talking. And talking. And _talking_. She’d been going on about grain yields in the southern hemisphere for the better part of an hour, and Leonard’s polite nodding had slowly started taking on an air of exhaustion. It wouldn’t be long, he knew, before the Ambassador caught him snoring.

“Mm,” he said, looking out onto the dance floor for help. “That’s interesting. Tell me more.”

She did. She went on about the difference between wheat and barley until his skin itched. No, wait, it wasn’t her talking that was making his skin itch: it was the dress uniform constricting his arms. Horrible. Simply horrible. Damn diplomacy to hell and back.

As he gazed longingly out onto the dance floor his salvation came to him in a halo of light. Leonard paused his search, and the Ambassador’s voice faded to a dull drone in the background. All he could hear was the sound of stringed instruments and the rustle of fabric.

There before him was Spock, lit with the warm glow of simulated candlelight. Spock had been smart. He’d avoided dress uniforms and instead wore a tastefully cut robe that was so black the light avoided it. Here and there the robe shimmered with iridescent green as the embroidered threads sparkled and shone. It brought out the warmth in Spock’s skin, made his eyes seem dark and fathomless as he danced with the Prince.

All this Leonard noticed in a flash--and then he noticed the look on Spock’s face. Pure pain.

Leonard smirked to himself. “I’m terribly sorry, Ambassador. I believe the first officer needs my attention as a doctor.”

“Oh,” she said, looking lost without someone to listen to her soliloquy. “Of course. If it’s not long don’t hesitate to return. I still haven’t gotten to the rather fascinating list of irrigation types.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said warmly, and then escaped as politely as he could.

Leonard strolled through the crowd towards where Spock was trying to teach the Prince the basic steps of the Vulcan waltz--or whatever they called it. The Prince had taken a shine to Spock almost immediately, and that shine had quickly burgeoned into a full-blown crush. Spock had been mildly horrified, but since the Prince was the Earth-equivalent of twelve, Leonard wasn’t too worried about it. He remembered being that age, when all he wanted to do was impress adults.

Spock was clearly impressed, but more with the Prince’s inability to keep from tripping over himself than anything. The Prince had stuck to Spock like glue all day, asking more questions than even Spock wanted to answer, and just generally getting into Spock’s business as he tried to be tall and regal and diplomatic. Spock now looked a half-second away from an aneurysm and so Leonard assumed his best doctorly glare as he stomped over to them.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, dancing on that leg?”

Spock turned to him in confusion. Around them dancers continued to swirl in intricate patterns, dresses and robes lifting and falling with the beat. “Doctor?”

Leonard turned his glare to the Prince, softening slightly at the wide-eyed look on the boy’s face. “Did you put him up to this?”

“He-he said my dancing was ‘suboptimal.’”

“Yep, that sounds like something he’d say.” Leonard took his handscanner out of his pocket and made a big show of examining Spock’s leg. “Damned nosey Vulcans can’t keep their observations to themselves. And now you’ve gone and aggravated the fracture!”

He glanced up at Spock and they met eyes. Spock’s right eyebrow was about to leave the atmosphere, and the left wasn’t far behind. He smirked, just a little, and offered Spock a wink.

“Well?” Leonard groused. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I can offer no explanation for my actions.”

“Hmp. I bet. What about the pain? Does it hurt?”

“The feeling is…” Spock paused as Leonard rested one concerned hand at the small of his back. When he spoke again his voice was a half-octave higher. “Manageable.”

“Uh-huh. Listen, kid—”

“Prince Daviron.”

“Prince Daviron,” Leonard corrected himself. “I can’t have Spock dancing on this bum leg.”

“Bum?”

“I mean, it was broken recently and is still healing. Now, I’m afraid I have to take him away and take a look at it. It may require some attention.”

“Oh.” Daviron looked absolutely crushed. “Will you be back, Mr. Spock?”

Spock hesitated, glancing to Leonard for assistance. Leonard merely stared back at him, finding the sight of Spock trying not to lie to be hilarious. “I...am afraid I may find myself otherwise occupied in recovery,” Spock said. “However, you now know the basic steps. Perhaps you would be interested in teaching your friends?”

Daviron brightened at the suggestion. “That’s a good idea. They’ll think I’m cool if I teach them an alien dance.”

“Aren’t you the prince?” Leonard asked. “Don’t they already think you’re cool?”

“Yeah, but not because of anything I’ve _done_.” Daviron was already turning and scanning the room. He perked up as his eyes trailed over a small gaggle of preteens brooding in the corner. “Thanks for the lesson, Mr. Spock,” he said, apparently getting over his broken heart rather quickly.

“Indeed,” Spock said to Daviron’s retreating back. He folded his hands into the sleeves of his dark robe and turned his bright gaze to Leonard. “An act of subterfuge, Doctor?”

“You know me. If I hadn’t gone into doctoring, I would have been a spy.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“What? You saying I wouldn’t make a good spy? I’ve got the brains _and_ the looks.”

“Certainly,” Spock said dryly. “Now, shall we abscond from the dance floor before your clever ruse is exposed by the fact you have no actual need to examine me?”

“Damned Vulcans,” Leonard muttered, already walking away. “You think you’re all so smart.”

Spock glided a step behind him. “Indeed, I do.”

“I didn’t see _you_ coming up with a plan to get _me_ out of talking to the Ambassador from Wherever I Don’t Care But They Have Lots of Wheat.”

“Ah. I did notice you were engaged with Ambassador No’iru for an extended period of time.”

“I thought I was going to lose my mind,” Leonard muttered. They had reached the edge of the dance floor and he looked around for a quick exist before No’iru or whoever could spot him again. “I know more about wheat than any person should ever know.”

Ah. There. The door to the balcony was slightly ajar and Leonard could see quiet darkness just beyond it. He took off towards it and Spock hastened after him. Leonard pushed open the door and glanced out.

It was dark. There were lanterns hung here and there along the walkway, but for the most part only starlight greeted them. The balcony was soft white marble and it wrapped around the length of the palace. Flowers and plants grew along the railing and hung from the ceiling, cascading vines and leaves down over the path and bathing them in the perfume of roses.

A few other party-goers had escaped the noise as well and were leaning against the railing in small groups, heads bowed together in quiet conversation. A few glanced back at the interruption as the sounds of the party poured out after Leonard and Spock.

“Let’s go further down,” Leonard muttered under his breath, feeling spooked by all the attention.

He felt Spock at his side, and then a hand trailing down over the sleeve of his dress uniform to his wrist. Spock brushed the pad of his forefinger gently against Leonard’s pulsepoint. “A fine suggestion, Doctor.”

Leonard shivered, his mouth going dry at Spock’s casual touch. “R-right. This way.”

They disappeared together into the night.

Somewhere in the distance, Leonard could hear water flowing. He imagined there as a fountain nearby, the sound of water crashing melding pleasantly with the music from the party that chased at their heels. They walked along the balcony, brushing aside hanging plants with their hands, and pausing here and there to look out over the palace grounds. The grounds were shadowed in the night, but the stars lit the palace just enough to hint at the beauty and splendor of the daytime.

They found a quiet place far from the crowd and Leonard leaned against the rail, sighing in contentment. He could hear Spock bustling around behind him, and then Spock touched the small of his back.

“Hm?” Leonard turned, smiling at Spock. “What’s this?”

“It is difficult to tell in the light,” Spock said quietly. “But I believe this flower will compliment the color of your eyes.”

Touched, Leonard accepted the small bloom. He brought it to his nose and inhaled deeply. The scent was subtle, but sweet. “I love it.” He tucked it behind his ear and batted his eyelashes at Spock. “Well? How do I look?”

“More beautiful everyday.”

He gulped and tried to act cross. “Hey, what’s that supposed to mean? I wasn’t beautiful yesterday?”

“You were,” Spock said. “It is a logical impossibility, and yet your beauty continues to grow exponentially with each passing moment.”

“You sweet-talker you.”

“I believe that is why you are so fond of me.”

“That, sure. I’ve got a few more reasons, too. But I don’t want you to get a big ego over it.”

“I will endeavor not to.”

Leonard felt Spock’s hand again at the small of his back, and he took the invitation to step closer to him. Even in the light he could see the hint of happiness in Spock’s eyes.

“Did you get any good dancing in before the Prince whisked you away?”

“Unfortunately, no. He was quite insistent that I dance with him, and when I saw his lack of form I was forced to intervene.”

Leonard laughed. Slowly, he curled his arms around Spock’s shoulders and he felt Spock’s palms settle at the curve of his waist. “You could have just let it go, you know.”

Spock looked affronted. “I could not.”

“Poor Spock,” Leonard said, sighing. “It must be terrible to live in a universe where you’re the only competent one.”

“Indeed.”

Leonard pinched him. “That was your cue to compliment me back.”

“Indeed? Why would I compliment you, Doctor?”

“Don’t play coy with me.” He felt Spock shift and then, easily and naturally, they began swaying in time to music so distant that it felt more like a memory than a song. “I know you think I’m all the rage.”

“You certainly do rage.”

“Hmph. Well, I can’t argue with you there.”

“That may be the first time you have ever agreed with me so readily.”

“First and last,” Leonard murmured. His head felt heavy and so he rested it against Spock’s shoulder as they swayed together. “Mmm… What about this? Is this okay?”

“...I am pleased to be able to hold you, Leonard.”

“And dance a little, huh?”

“And dance,” Spock agreed.

Leonard relaxed, letting the tension of the party melt off of him as Spock held him close. Hours of diplomacy and inane conversation had drained him, but he felt rejuvenated now as Spock began to...hum?

For a while he simply listened to the gentle rise and fall of Spock’s voice. He started soft, so quiet Leonard wasn’t sure he was hearing him correctly, and gradually the gentle sound coalesced and Spock was whispering to him as he held him so reverently Leonard thought his heart might break in two.

They danced the way lovers dance when they have their whole lives ahead of them. Quiet, calm. So slowly they hardly moved. Spock sang to him and Leonard listened with all his heart, shivering as Spock’s hand cupped the back of his head.

He lifted his chin, half-smiling, the taste of music sweet on Spock’s lips.

“What is that?” Leonard murmured, distracting Spock from answering with more kisses.

Eventually Spock pulled away just enough to look down at Leonard. His eyes were dark, inky black. “A song from my childhood. Was it acceptable?”

“More than.” Leonard sighed happily and then nearly choked as his shirt collar caught against his neck again. “Damned thing…” He tugged at it, cursing under his breath.

“Allow me.”

Spock’s fingers danced over the back fastener and then--seemingly by magic--Leonard could breathe again. He gaped up at Spock, who had no business looking that smug.

“What did you do?” He tried to feel the back of his neck, but he couldn’t see anything.

“If I told you, you would have no use for me anymore.”

Leonard scoffed. “C’mon now. At least give me an excuse I’ll believe.”

Spock stayed silent, a discernible upturn at the corner of his mouth.

“Spock,” Leonard whined. “For the love of god, just tell me so I never have to get strangled by my shirt at one of these damned events again.”

“There is a secondary hook hidden on the back of each dress uniform top. You would know this if you had read the Dress Uniform Briefing Packet which came packaged with your uniform.”

“Who the hell reads a briefing packet to wear a _shirt_?”

Spock gave him a withering look. “I suppose I do.”

“Well, there’s your problem.” Leonard laughed and gave Spock a quick peck on the lips in apology. “You’ve got too much time on your hands. You should spend it with me instead of with briefing packets.”

“Well reasoned, Doctor,” Spock said. “I consider your advice when next I am faced with the choice between you and a briefing packet.”

“Don’t get my hopes up. I know you’d pick the packet anyday.”

Gradually, their dancing had slowed to a stop. Spock’s fingers danced over the curve of Leonard’s cheekbone, tracing him as if he were something very fascinating and worthy of study.

“...Well?” Leonard said quietly, feeling simultaneously very small and far too vast under the weight of Spock’s gaze. “Shall we get back to the party?”

“I find myself not wishing to go,” Spock said. “However, logically our duty lies elsewhere.”

“There will be other dances,” Leonard promised. He lifted his arm to take Spock’s hand in his, squeezing gently. “Maybe you can teach me some of those moves you were showing the Prince.”

“I would relish the challenge, Doctor.”

Leonard laughed. “Hey!”

Spock was already pulling away, a glint in his eye that belied his joy. Leonard chased after him, berating him good-naturedly until they stepped out from under the hanging garden and back into the bright light of the dance hall.

The center of the floor had been cleared and the Prince was leading a group of other children through a very-improvised set of Vulcan dance steps. The crowd watched, excited, and even Ambassador No’iru had left aside the world of crop rotations to observe.

Spock’s hand snuck out towards him once more, delivering a final finger kiss to Leonard’s ring finger, and then Spock made a beeline for the snack bar. With a huff, Leonard followed, already feeling lighter both in step and in heart.

He stayed close by Spock the rest of the night, listening to him intently and trying to keep his smile to himself, and not once did he have to tug at the collar of his shirt.


End file.
